


Sunday School

by pianoforeplay



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-14
Updated: 2011-04-14
Packaged: 2017-10-18 02:31:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/184016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pianoforeplay/pseuds/pianoforeplay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Dean gives Sam a quick vocab lesson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunday School

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [ smallworld_inc artwork (Warning: NSFW) and initially posted ](http://pics.livejournal.com/rhythmsextion/pic/00ckpsaz)[here](http://pianoforeplay.livejournal.com/44173.html) on 12/02/2010.

They never get days like this. Days where Dad's not around and they have nothing that needs doing. Days where Sam isn't stuck at school or busy with homework or up worrying that his father and brother are both dead or incarcerated or possessed. Days where Dean isn't at work or cleaning the guns or planning his next trip to the bar hustling pool because, once again, Dad didn't leave them enough cash.

They never have days where it's just Sam and Dean and nothing else. No plans, no worries. Nothing but each other and a bed and a whole lot of time to kill.

But that's exactly what they have today. It's summer so there's no school or homework to worry about; the guns have been cleaned and the knives sharpened, and the house is completely secure. Dean's off work for the day, his first in over a week. They have more than enough cash to last them for nearly the next month and, as awful as it maybe sounds, Sam kind of doesn't give a shit if Dad's okay or not. In fact, right now, his father is the very last thing on his mind.

Because, right now, Sam has Dean. Completely.

They're both covered in sweat, blankets and sheets shoved down to their hips, the sun casting a low, afternoon amber glow across the bed. Dean arches and moans softly, lifts a hand to Sam's hair and holds on as Sam presses the kiss deeper, Dean's taste no longer indistinguishable from his own. They've been here for hours now, just like this, a mess of sweat and come and slick, naked skin. A few stolen hours of perfection in their otherwise totally fucked up lives.

Sam doesn't want to ever leave this warm cocoon, not even to pee or grab a glass of water. He wants to lose himself in his brother's body, breathe in nothing but the scent of their mixed musk, touch nothing but the smooth planes of Dean's broad shoulders and and angled hipbones, taste nothing but the sweat on his skin and the come painting his thighs. He's greedy with it, lost in a hedonistic haze that's intensified with every whimpered moan.

"God, Sam," Dean groans, the sound trailing into a soft laugh as Sam slides a hand up Dean's side to graze his thumb over a nipple. "You're fuckin' insatiable."

It's Sam's turn to laugh then, his nose bumping Dean's as he inhales the humid air between them. "How do you even know that word?"

Dean growls in response, lips curving deliciously and Sam can't help but take another taste of them, teeth scraping faintly. "Despite what you may think, I know a ton of words that you still don't."

"Mmm?" Sam replies, distracted by the feel of Dean's stubble under his tongue. "Like what?"

"Like--" Dean pauses on a quiet gasp as Sam bites at his collarbone. "Like, uh... like _ménage à trois_."

Laughing, Sam works his way lower, both hands spanning the breadth of Dean's chest as he murmurs, "Are you kidding? I've known that one since I was thirteen." Pausing, he glances up, hands gliding slowly down Dean's sides. "Bet you don't know how to spell it."

Dean grumbles, his hands curving over Sam's shoulders. "Who the hell cares how it's spelled?"

"M-E-N-A- _mmmf_!" Dean's hand smells like spunk and sweat and Sam jerks his face away, grinning as he pitches his voice louder. "G! E! _Aghmmf!!_ "

He doesn't put up any real struggle when Dean swings a leg over his hips and pushes him over, a hand once again clamped over Sam's grinning mouth.

"How about salad tossing?" Dean says, grinning down at Sam, the sheen of sweat covering his skin making him practically glow in the light.

Squirming a little, Sam manages a muffled response, hands clamoring at Dean's arms as he sucks in a breath through his nose, though they both know he's not really fighting. He likes this too much, the weight of his brother on top of him, the weird sense of comfort and protection it provides.

Dean's fingers dig into his skin. "What was that?" he prods, voice teasing.

" _Mmmn!_ " Sam grunts, dissolving into laughter as he swats at Dean's upper arm.

"You totally don't know," Dean says, thighs still bracketing Sam's waist as he leans down closer. Sam doesn't deny it, but, however curious he might be, he doesn't say a word. He has his pride, after all. "I'll give you a hint. It has nothing to do with vegetables."

Sam rolls his eyes because he'd already figured that much. With his hands still wrapped around Dean's sides, he gives another token attempt at struggling.

"No guess?" Dean asks then, breath warm across Sam's cheek. "Want me to show you instead?"

Sam isn't about to admit that he has no idea what his brother is talking about, so when Dean finally pulls his hand away, Sam only sucks in a breath and licks his lips before shrugging. "Sure," he says, ignoring the tiny, nervous voice in the back of his mind.

The grin Dean gives him then is nothing short of evil and Sam honestly doesn't know whether to feel worried or excited. He isn't given very long to dwell either way before Dean is lifting off to wrestle Sam over onto his stomach, legs and elbows bumping in his hurry. Sam fights it at first, but Dean just grabs his wrist and bites at his shoulder and says, "Trust me, you're gonna like this," and something in his tone makes Sam's dick twitch as he rolls over willingly.

There's still a wet spot on the sheets and Sam grimaces as he settles over it, arms tucked up under his chest and head turned to keep his eye on Dean.

"This better not involve a hamster or something," he grumbles as Dean knocks his legs apart and slides warm hands down his sides.

"Dude, do I look like Richard Gere to you?" Dean says, still grinning as he gently lifts Sam's hips up, one palm smoothing over the meat of Sam's ass to spread his cheeks apart in a way that makes Sam feel totally exposed and vulnerable and inexplicably turned on all at once.

"Dean--"

"Shhh," Dean replies, one dry finger gently grazing down his crack. "Giving you an education here, Sammy. Better pay attention."

Feeling a flush of heat work up his neck, Sam bites back a whimper. He thinks about the phrase again, tries to remember if he's ever heard it at school or on television, but aside from restaurant menus and cooking channels, it's still not ringing any bells. And he can't imagine what it has to do with his current position unless it's just that Dean wants to get him all worked up and embarrass him. It certainly wouldn't be out of character for him.

"You focused, little brother?" Dean continues, voice low and dripping with intent as his thumb nudges teasingly against Sam's hole. "This," he says, close enough for Sam to feel warm breath ghost across his skin, "is me tossing your salad."

And then, shockingly, Dean's tongue is touching him. Right _there_ , right at the pucker of Sam's asshole, a quick, hot slickness that makes Sam gasp and shudder and go tense all over. He barely has the chance to feel even mildly disgusted before Dean's doing it again, his tongue circling lightly before broadly lapping over the same area, breath hot and fingers gripping him tight.

"Dean!" Sam finally manages to choke out, his hips jerking.

"Mmm," Dean answers before once again running his thumb down Sam's now spit-slick crack. "Feels good, doesn't it? You like it?"

Sam has no idea how to answer that, his senses a confusing mess of embarrassment and shameful arousal. Why would Dean _do_ that? Why would he _lick Sam's ass_? It's disgusting, really. Completely and totally gross. Sam's sweaty and unclean, his ass slick from the lube Dean had used to finger him earlier and Sam can't imagine that the combination in any way tastes good.

But Sam also can't deny that it'd felt amazing, a million little nerve endings just bursting to life, making him blindingly hard within seconds. _Jesus_.

Before he can form any kind of response though, Dean's tongue once again flickers across his skin. Sam gurgles out a whimper, legs shaking and Dean pauses long enough to murmur, "I like it." The touch is teasing, two swirls followed by a series of light, wet stabs and tiny licks. He hears Dean swallow as he pulls back to whisper, "Like teaching you new things. Always have."

Sam's entire body flushes hot then, every single muscle tensing as Dean dives back in, tongue gently sinking in, slow and sure.

"Fuck, _Dean_ ," Sam whimpers, hands grasping uselessly at the sheets beneath him and legs quivering as Dean continues driving Sam completely out of his mind with every slow, wet lick. "Dean, what're you-- oh God. Oh, _God_."

When Dean pulls back, Sam's still trembling, heart hammering as he breaks out into a sweat.

His brother takes another taste. "Thought about this," he says in between broad swipes of his tongue. "Every time I got my mouth around your dick." A pause to lick again, breaching shallowly before pulling back with a hot exhale. "Just wanna get my tongue everywhere, Sammy. Taste you all over." Sam jolts faintly when he feels the tip of Dean's finger poking into him gently, wet tongue right along side it. "Inside and out. Fuck, Sam. So fuckin' hot like this. Wish you could see it."

Sam can't help but whimper again, his entire body on fire with pleasure and need as his brother takes another slow taste, tongue slipping right on into him.

"Dean," he whines, voice breaking as he shoves a hand down between his thighs to grab hold of his dick, squeezing tight. He's mere seconds away from blowing his load for the fourth time today, can tell by the ache in his balls and heavy pressure at the base of his spine that he's right on the brink. It's almost embarrassing, honestly.

"Think you got it, Sam?" Dean says, smirk clear in his tone as he once again spreads Sam's ass cheeks wide. "Lesson learned?"

Sam nearly laughs then, though it comes out as more of a strangled groan, hips stuttering as he sucks in a breath. He still doesn't understand what salad tossing has to do with having his brother's tongue in his ass and frankly, he doesn't really care anymore. His skin is prickling with sweat, nerves drawn tight and every slick, teasing touch of Dean's tongue only amplifying his desperate ache for more. "Jesus, Dean, will you just _fuck me_ already? _Fuck_."

Dean answers with a soft groan, teeth lightly scraping over the swell of Sam's ass and Sam rocks his hips back for more, spreads his legs wider, presenting himself shamelessly.

"Should make you use it in a sentence," Dean says, a clear last-ditch attempt at maintaining control and Sam only tosses a glare over his shoulder, says, "" _Do it_ ," as he lets go of his own dick to press both palms flat against the mattress and arches his back, ass high in the air, arms shaking.

He feels rather than hears Dean's sharp inhale and knows instantly that, despite his position, he's finally gained the upperhand. It's confirmed a second later when Dean wraps one large hand around Sam's left hip and settles over him, mouth wet and breath hot against the back of Sam's neck. Sam moans and shudders all over again, anticipation coiling tight as his brother's dick drags deliciously along his crack, bodies touching at every point from thigh to shoulder.

"Fuck me," he whispers once more, all teasing gone in and instant, and Dean growls darkly and fumbles a hand between them to line up, the blunt head of his cock pressing and pushing and breaching, filling Sam up so good and so right, narrowing Sam's entire world to one perfect moment within one perfect day in an otherwise perfectly fucked up life.

Later, once the need has been sated and the fog has lifted, Sam spreads out, one arm tucked under Dean's neck, sheets tangled around their ankles. Says, "You totally just made that term up, didn't you?"

Beside him, Dean snorts. "You really think I could make up something like that?"

"Yes," Sam says without pause.

Dean turns his head to look at him, grin stretching from ear to ear as he says, "You got a lot to learn, Sammy."

 **end.**

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] Sunday School](https://archiveofourown.org/works/856990) by [heardtheowl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heardtheowl/pseuds/heardtheowl), [pianoforeplay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pianoforeplay/pseuds/pianoforeplay)




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